


Finally Home

by ETNMystic



Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [29]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Abuse, Close to death experiences, Harvey is a Good Boy, animal cruelty, dog battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: A brave little Scottish terrier makes his escape into the streets of Brooklyn in hopes of getting away from his abusive owner.
Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726699
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Finally Home

Brooklyn, 1944:

"Jonny, where are you?" Trixie asked in a sickly-sweet, sing-song voice.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I didn't understand what was going on or why she was after me. She was abusive, but not this abusive. She never chased me with a cleaver. I didn't know why. All I knew was that something was wrong with Trixie and that I had to get out of the house. And fast.

"Jonny, I want to play with you. Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Trixie found me a couple of weeks back. My family had been ambushed and killed by a gang of murderous canines. I was the only one who had escaped the attack. When I saw Trixie, I was relieved at first. Until I saw the burlap sack in her hand. But I was already inside of it by that time.

She took me to her house and locked me out in the backyard, feeding me almost nothing except raw meat and table scraps. I was emaciated within a week. 

Then came Baxter. He told me about a place better suited for someone in my condition. But I needed to meet him at the town's sawmill in order for me to get there. Tonight would be the night.

I scurried into the living room when I saw a big shadow coming up behind me. I turned to see the psychopathic Trixie. Therapy sessions hadn't helped her in the least, not even intensive. 

"Come to Mama!" she yelled hoarsely as she swung the cleaver over her head.

I ran to the front door just as the blade was falling and pushed the door open. I was out, but my troubles weren't over yet. Behind me I saw Trixie holding the cleaver, looking as sharp as she claimed it to be.

"Get back here or I'ma kill ya. I'ma kill ya, Jonny!" 

This only encouraged me to run even faster. I picked up speed and soon made it into the streets, Trixie trailing quickly behind.

* * *

The night was dark and stormy. I had to find Baxter, and fast. All of a sudden, I heard roars, squeaks, and whirs coming from out of nowhere. I looked up and saw the open door to the sawmill just outside of town. Though the sounds were hell on my ears, I rushed inside and dried myself off. 

I took a few moments to gather my bearings. I knew I had lost Trixie somewhere a few miles back. That would give me time to find Baxter.

"Hello?" I called out.  
"Anyone here?"

I walked around for a while, the smell of woodchips radiating in my nose. It was better than the smell of alcohol or the smog of the outside, but not very pleasant either. 

All of a sudden, I heard a round of loud barking just behind me. I whirled around to find Baxter and two, great, big goons by his side.

"Oh thank God!" I sighed in relief as I rushed to him.  
"Youse don't know what I had ta do just ta--!"

"That's him! That's the murderer that I was tellin' ya about!" Baxter exclaimed, causing me to skid to a halt.

I was confused. There was no officer, and I hadn't murdered anyone. The only situation that I had to do with murder was almost becoming a victim of one.

"Baxter, what are ya talkin' about? I ain't murdered nobody," I explained.

"He murdered my wife and kids. Slit their throats in half. I saw it with my own eyes," Baxter cried.  
"He oughta be put to death, officers!"

The two goons grabbed me. After climbing a flight of stairs, we came to a large platform. The two held me over a railing. I looked down to see a set of sharp metal blades. They were moving around and around at high speed.

"Nice work, boys," Baxter exclaimed as he came up the steps.  
"We're finally gonna get rid of the entire family."

I turned to him in shock. When I first met Baxter, he had seemed all too familiar, but I couldn't quite figure out why. Now I knew where I had first seen him.

"You killed my family. You were the lead of the ambush!"

He gave an evil chuckle.

"Your mother promised to marry me years ago. Then she went and married that S.O.B that was your father. I warned her that she would pay dearly. Four down and now the final one to go."

I shut my eyes and waited for it to be over when I heard a police siren. With the three distracted, I jumped from the grip of the goons and headed towards the exit of the mill. 

All of a sudden, I heard voices. I ducked behind a crate and listened in.

"He must be here, officer! Jonny, come out to Mama!" 

My eyes widened. Trixie was out looking for me! I pictured the cleaver, sharp, ready to cut anything it hit. 

"What does he look like, ma'am?"

"He's small an' white an' the cutest, little thing you ever saw."

"How old is he?"

"He should be 'bout three or four."

My eyes widened in fear at the thought of going back to Trixie. I scurried out from the mill. It was pouring rain and cold as a freezer. I scrounged for a place to sleep until I found an old cardboard box. It didn't seem the most comfortable, but you don't have many options when your life's in danger.

* * *

I didn't get much sleep that night. I had nightmares about Baxter and his goons. Hopefully they thought that I had been ran over or ambushed, but I couldn't take any chances.

I wandered the streets; my legs were weak and weary. I was at a breaking point and was about to collapse when--

"Oh my goodness! What a cutie!"

I heard a woman's voice above me. I looked up and saw a young and beautiful woman. She looked to be in her early twenties. Her blonde hair was curled and she had a lovely smile. 

"What an adorable, little puppy."

She bent down and reached out a hand. I whimpered and backed away in fear. 

"Hey. It's okay. Don't be afraid, little guy. I won't hurt you," she reassured me.

Cautiously I walked over and sniffed her hand. She seemed alright. I wagged my little, white tail in excitement and cuddled up against her. 

"Where did you come from?" she asked.

She looked at my neck.

"Hmm. No identification. Poor little guy must be a stray pup. Hey, do you need a good home?" she asked me with a sense of pity in her voice.

I licked her hand in affirmation. I thought that my troubles were going to be over with when I heard growling behind us.

I turned to see Baxter and his bulldog galoots. They had a glare in their eyes, like they were going to tear me apart limb from limb. Behind them were two people. One was a police officer and the other was too familiar.

"There he is, officer! That's Jonny!" screamed Trixie. 

She ran up towards the woman.

"Thief! Dog-napper!" she spat in the woman's face.

"Now, calm down, Trixie," the officer said,  
"Please state your name, miss."

"My name is Sophie. Sophie Elizabeth Smith.

"How did you happen to come across the dog?"

"Well, I was on my way to run a few errands when I heard whimpering coming from below. I looked down and saw a puppy. He looked emaciated and he had cuts on his neck."

"Liar!" Trixie spat,  
"Ya can't trust blondes! They're all liars!" 

Trixie was a sullen-faced brunette with a short temper and blood-shot eyes.

"He looked like he had been maltreated and abused. He had no identification and I'm thinking about adopting him."

The officer turned to Trixie.

"Do you have a collar or a tag? Some form of identification, perhaps, to prove that you have ownership of the dog?"

Trixie began to fumble through her purse and pockets. After a long search, she showed nothing that could prove that I belonged in her care.

"If you don't have identification, then he could belong to anyone."

"Jonny's mine! I can prove it. He comes to me when I call him."

Trixie bent down.

"C'mere, Jonny! Come to Mommy," she said in her sickly-sweet voice.

I whimpered and ran to Sophie, cuddling up against her. 

"I guess that answers that," the officer said,

"No! Jonny's mine, woman!"

She pulled out the cleaver and ran towards Sophie. Without hesitation, I ran over and bit Trixie on her ankle. She let out a shriek of pain and fell back.

"I can help you find a good adoption agency, Sophie," the officer said as he pinned Trixie's hands behind her back.  
"He can get his collar and ID tags."

"Oh, would you? Thank you so much," Sophie sighed in relief.

Trixie was becoming feral.

"I'ma kill ya, Jonny!" she yelled.

"Right after I get Trixie out to a mental institution," the officer finished.

He escorted Trixie to his car, promising to come back and help Sophie find an adoption agency. As the car left, I thought that the trouble was over. But boy was I wrong.

Baxter and his burly bulldog goons were making their way towards us. I noticed that they were foaming at the mouths and I had a feeling that they were going after Sophie. I couldn't let that happen. 

As she backed up, I leapt from her arms and ran towards the trio of mad murderers.

"Say goodbye to Sophie, Jonny," Baxter grinned.

"Don't you dare lay a paw on her or I'll kill you!" I growled. 

"Then I guess we'll have to get you out of the way first."

I shut my eyes, preparing to take every bit of the damage for her when suddenly--

Thwack! Something hit Baxter hard in the head. I looked up to see Sophie, her purse in her hand.

"Get away from him! He's been through enough. Leave him alone!"

Baxter turned and ran head over heels, his tail between his legs. The bulldogs followed just as the car came back. The officer got out of the car.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"A brown basset hound and two bulldogs almost killed my dog."

The officer made note of it, promising to get a dogcatcher to nab the three and bring them to a shelter. 

* * *

All of it was painful, but after a series of painful shots, many forms, about a week or two of recovery, and so much more, I was much healthier and Sophie had become my new owner. I even had my name changed. 

"What are you going to call him?" a lady at the agency asked Sophie.

Sophie gave this some thought.

"Someone had referred to him as Jonny, but I think that name's too traumatic for him."

I agreed.

"How about Scotts? Or Harvey?"

"Why Harvey?"

"Well, he's white and he's been by your side ever since you found him, like that white rabbit in the movie with Jimmy Stewart. Plus, it sounds cute and cuddly like him."

"Harvey the Scottish Terrier. It's got a nice ring to it."

Finally we were able to go. She opened the door to her house, set down on the ground, and said

"Welcome home, Harvey."

I went directly to the couch and she sat down beside me. For the rest of the night, we sat in front of the warm fireplace reading a book called _Sense and Sensibility._ She stroked me softly as I nudged up against her. I knew that I was going to be happy here. I was finally home.


End file.
